


be careful what you wish for

by ghosthunter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Genderbending, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 04:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16381883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: There’s a witch who lives at the edge of the sea, and in the summer when all the children play on the beach, they dare each other to creep closer and closer to her shack, but none of them ever see her. Their parents tell them stories, tell them the witch will snatch them from their beds at night if they’re not good.“If I give you what you seek,” the witch says, looking at the twins, “you still may not get what you desire. You will still have to work for what you want. It will hurt, and you will suffer, and you won’t always be happy.”“I want it anyway,” the child says to her.





	be careful what you wish for

**Author's Note:**

> so: everyone's gender experience is different because gender is actually fake. this story has a character who considers themself non-binary but is really more of a magical play on being transgender/dealing with gender presentation/living up to expectations and how big of a pain in the ass that is. i myself am not trans and i have a weird relationship with gender. everyone's experience is different and this is meant with no ill intent, just as exploration of a sort.
> 
> that said, thanks to jarka for beta and everyone who said well it's not that weird and yeah, that's kind of what being trans is like so i hope if you read it you enjoy it and if you don't i'm happy to hear about why something is wrong or why your lived experience is different.

There’s a witch who lives at the edge of the sea, and in the summer when all the children play on the beach, they dare each other to creep closer and closer to her shack, but none of them ever see her. Their parents tell them stories, tell them the witch will snatch them from their beds at night if they’re not good.

As they get older, the stories get different. Older girls in tight spots who received help from the witch by the sea, mourning mothers with sick babies. Children begin to forget why they’re supposed to be scared of the witch, but the fear never dissipates.

The twins play hockey because their father played hockey. And as they get older, they learn that the best professionals, the highest league - the one where their dad played, the pinnacle of the sport - is only for men, and not for two little girls trailing after their dad onto the ice.

It’s not fine.

At ten, the child goes to the witch, twin in tow. This witch who they’ve been brought up to be terrified of, who lives at the edge of the sea, who seems to be able to help those who ask her. The twins grasp hands tightly, and one knocks once, twice - and the door bursts open.

The witch is standing on the doorstep, looking down at them. The child looks up at her, jaw set, determined.

“If I give you what you seek,” the witch says, looking at the twins, “you still may not get what you desire. You will still have to work for what you want. It will hurt, and you will suffer, and you won’t always be happy.”

“I want it anyway,” the child says to her.

Her hand darts out and catches the child’s chin, bony fingers and sharp nails digging in. The twin whimpers with fear, but the child doesn’t move.

“You will work,” she says.

“Yes,” the child tells her.

“You are willing to suffer,” she asks.

All of ten, the child says, “yes.”

“Then it’s done,” she says, letting go of the child’s face. She’s still for only a moment, taking in the stubborn set of the child’s jaw. With her other hand, she holds out a vial. “Drink.”

The child does.

It will hurt, the witch said. You will suffer, the witch said. The child’s scream of pain is cut off as consciousness slips away.

 

Christian jerks awake.

His heart is racing and he’s breathing hard, alone in his bed in DC, the blankets and sheets too warm and rain beating against his bedroom window. It’s the same dream all the time - he’s been having the same dream for nearly fifteen years. Like he doesn’t remember it like it happened the day before.

He remembers the witch’s fingers on his face, the way her potion tasted when he swallowed. He remembers waking up back home in his own bed with no memory of how he got there. His sister doesn’t remember how they got home when he asks her; her memory of their time in the witch’s home ends in the same place his does.

His parents were upset, he remembers. His mother cried like he’d died, his father had nodded his head like he understood when he found out what Christian had done.

He runs his hands over his hair and exhales, rubbing the back of his neck with his hands, then he kicks off the blankets and gets up to head in the kitchen, barefoot and with his t-shirt brushing the tops of his thighs with just his panties underneath.

Living in DC, living alone, has given him a freedom he’s never had. To walk around his own place, to be who he is or who he prefers to be - the person who drifts between who he was born and who the witch made him. He sits on the kitchen counter with a bottle of water, watching the lightning through the sliding glass door.

Tomorrow, it’s back to hockey. Tomorrow, it’s back to being Christian, to being what they expect him to be. Back to wrapping himself in magic to force his body to an extreme that it doesn’t organically fit. Back to what he asked for, what he fought and struggled for.

Water spills from the mouth of the bottle and drips into the loose collar of his sleep shirt, rolling down between his breasts. He shivers, then slides off the counter, tossing the empty bottle into the recycling before climbing back into bed, the white noise of the rain helping him drift back to sleep.

 

Half of his days, he’s pushing his body to the brink of exhaustion. It was hard in Hershey, playing three games in three nights and going all the way to the final his first year out, but a lot of guys in the AHL were smaller and his size was never a disadvantage.

It’s harder, in the NHL. They want more from him, play harder, play faster, get crushed into the boards by guys who have twenty or thirty pounds on him. It hurts and he’s tired but it’s exhilarating. It’s everything he wanted, even if it’s not everything he hoped it would be.

It just makes it hard to keep the magic that he needs when it takes so much energy. He catches himself letting it slip a little bit, on late night flights or bus rides back to the hotel. He dozes off, and when someone wakes him up his dress shirt is too tight across his chest and he can feel the tingle under his skin as the magic inside him shifts.

Andre sing-songs his name and bumps up against him, wrapping his arms around Christian. Christian hopes that he won’t notice Christian’s shoulders are a little less broad, that his chest is a little more soft. Andre’s breath is hot on his neck as he dangles off Christian.

“Go to your own bed,” Christian tells him, pushing Andre toward his own hotel room door.

“But yours will be warmer,” Andre says. 

“You know I turn my thermostat down as soon as I get into the room,” Christian tells him. “So that’s probably not true.”

“I need someone to snuggle me,” Andre tells him.

“Go bother Nicke,” Christian tells him.

“Why don’t you love me?” Andre asks him.

“Because I’m tired and you’re annoying,” Christian says. The itch under his skin is getting worse, and he just wants to change into his pajamas and climb into bed.

“Djoos,” Andre whines at him.

Christian, because he’s an idiot, caves in. “Go change and brush your teeth,” Christian tells him. “I’ll try not to fall asleep before you come back.”

Andre grins at him and smacks a kiss on his cheek, then turns and heads to his own room. Christian lets himself into his room, which he’s already sharing with Jakub anyway. Jakub, who is sitting at the head of his bed, already stripped to his briefs with his socks still on.

“That’s a look,” Christian tells him. He wants to scratch his skin off. Jakub gives him the finger without looking up from his phone. Christian grabs clothes out of his bag and slips into the bathroom to change.

He strips out of his game day suit and puts it on a hanger, standing in his briefs in front of the sink. He rummages through his toiletry kit for his toothbrush while he lets the rest of the change happen, brushing his teeth as the phantom itch settles under his skin.

He spits and looks at himself in the mirror. His face looks the same, but his shoulders are a little more rounded, there’s a little more curve to his waist. His thighs and ass are the same, but his briefs wrinkle loose between his legs where his cock is gone.

It’s just that he doesn’t have the energy to make his body so perfectly male. It’s his hotel room, not the locker room. Jakub never notices, and Christian has been letting more and more of himself go throughout the season when it’s just the two of them. Maybe Andre won’t either. Maybe, deep down, he wants them to notice. To see him for who he is, and not what he projects.

He tugs on sweatpants and a t-shirt, and when his breasts are too obvious and his nipples too hard in the coolness of the bathroom, he tugs a sweatshirt on just as Andre knocks on the door. He comes out of the bathroom, opens the door for Andre and hangs his suit in the closet. Jakub hasn’t moved and is still wearing his socks.

“Sexy,” Andre tells him as he walks over to throw himself into Christian’s bed. Jakub grabs one of his pillows and leans across the space between the beds, hitting Andre hard with it.

“Don’t,” Christian warns, tucking his phone into his sweatshirt pocket and going to sit down next to Andre on his bed.

“Snuggle me,” Andre says.

Christian rolls his eyes and climbs under the blankets, letting Andre wrap around him. Jakub finally takes his socks off and putters around for a few more minutes before finally climbing into bed.

In the morning, he wakes up with Andre pressed against him, his dick hard against Christian’s ass. At least he doesn’t have to worry about that, he thinks, as he tugs gently away from Andre and gets out of bed, going to shower and dress.

He can already feel the magic tingling under his skin as he forces himself back to being something that he’s not.

 

The only person on the team who knows is Holtby.

It’s not what Christian would have chosen. No one in Hershey ever knew, or when he played for Brynas, or on his national team. But Braden Holtby took one look at him in the locker room, then stopped him in the hallway after practice to ask him about it.

“What does it do?” Braden asks him, then sneezes. “It’s all over you. Magic, I mean.”

“What?” Christian asks, and he feels like he’s having an out of body experience, suddenly. No one’s ever asked him about magic. He doesn’t know how to see it on other people. He just knows what happened to him.

“Look, this doesn’t come in very handy - you know, ever, it’s never come in handy, it’s only ever been triggered once or twice in my life,” Braden says, then he stops and takes a breath. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m a magic empath? I don’t know what the real words for it is. I can’t see it but it makes me sneeze.”

“Like you’re allergic to magic?” Christian asks, feeling horrified. He’s going to cause their award-winning goalie to have an allergic reaction every time he’s anywhere near?

“Not quite,” Braden tells him. “I mean, I don’t think. Magic is so temporary, it’s never mattered.”

“This isn’t temporary,” Christian says, and the fear makes his stomach churn.

“All spells are temporary,” Braden says, frowning slightly.

“Not mine,” Christian says. “I wanna play here but I don’t want this to be a problem.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be a problem,” Braden tells him. He’s still frowning. Christian stands there, awkward, his hands jammed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. “I mean, I don’t understand how it can be permanent.”

“It just is,” Christian says. “Would you believe it if I told you a witch cursed me?”

“Witches don’t really curse people, that’s not how - “ Braden breaks off. “You’re serious.”

“I mean, I asked her to do it,” Christian says. “But yes.”

Braden sneezes again. “I think I’ll get used to it,” he says. Christian bites his lip, and Braden tries to look reassuring. “It’ll be fine.”

Christian doesn’t feel particularly reassured.

 

He remembers vividly the way his mother’s fingers bit into his wrist as she dragged him down the beach. He remembers crying as his mother stopped and pounded on the door of the witch’s shack. 

Sometimes his memory supplies lightning, or rain, but neither are real. It was dusk, and his mother was angry. In his nightmares, the witch throws open the door, her hair wild and blowing, like a fairy tale. His memory knows that it was dusk, the sun just setting, and the breeze of the sea was gentle, and the witch was never wild or windblown.

“Change her back,” he remembers his mother demanding.

“I can’t,” the witch had responded. “The magic only works one way.”

“Change my daughter back,” his mother had said, her voice angry.

“Your daughter’s gone,” the witch had told his mother. “Your son made his choice. Love the son you now have.”

“She’s ten!” his mother yelled. “She can’t make this decision.”

“Ten years is old enough to know what he wants,” the witch had said. “Why don’t you ask him if he has regrets.”

His mother never once let go of his wrist, but she turned to him then. “Why did you do this? Why would you come here?”

“I wanted to play hockey,” he’d told her then. “I wanted to play hockey like dad. In the NHL.”

“So you came here and you asked to be a boy?” his mother had demanded.

“They told me girls can’t play in the NHL,” he’d told her. She’d tugged him by his wrist then, toward the witch.

“Give me my daughter back,” his mother had said.

The witch had stooped down, coming eye to eye with him then. “I can’t change him back,” she told his mother. “The magic will not be undone. I will give him the ability to make his own decision.”

She took him into her shack then, and sat him down. The potion she gave him the second time didn’t hurt, not like the first one. It tingled and itched, like his whole body was his foot falling asleep after sitting still for too long. He remembers his mother watching all of it from the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

“He makes his choice,” the witch tells his mother, reaching out and helping him to his feet. The witch stroked a hand over his hair then. “If you concentrate, and if you work hard, you can be whatever you want. A boy, a girl, a hockey player. That’s up to you.”

The witch stopped then, and looked up at his mother.

“It’s up to you, and no one else.”

 

So Holtby knows he carries a witch’s curse, but he doesn’t know what it is. Sometimes, he still sneezes around Christian, but not often. Mostly, he doesn’t say anything, and Christian keeps it to himself. He keeps his head down and he works hard for what he wants, because he came to Washington for one thing, and that was to play hockey, and to win.

It doesn’t matter how tired he is.

Jakub almost finds out, just before the outdoor game. Christian’s whole family is in town ahead of the game, and while his parents are staying at a hotel, his sister is staying at his place. They don’t exactly plan it, but somehow they end up deciding to go out.

Christian doesn’t look much like his sister, even when he gathers the magic around him and lets it warp his body even further away from masculine than normal. His face is a little softer, his shoulders rounded, his waist dips in just a little more. His breasts are small, but the top he wears reveals a lot of cleavage anyway - the barest swell of his breasts, the pale skin over his breast bone.

His sister sweeps some sparkly, shiny highlighter down the center of his chest and he laughs.

His jeans are tight over his thighs and hips, and his sister does his makeup. They’re about to leave, his ID - the fake one with his birth name on it - and cash shoved into his back pocket. He doesn’t expect there to be someone at his door when he opens it. It’s just bad luck that Jakub is on the other side, his hand raised to knock when Christian opens the door to walk out.

He slams the door in Jakub’s face. “You have to get rid of him,” he tells his sister. “He can’t see me like this. He’s gonna know.”

“Your teammates don’t know?” she asks him. There’s no way they’re going to be able to fool Jakub into thinking it was her who opened the door, but they can try. She tugs her hair back and opens the door as Christian flees into his bedroom.

“Hi,” she says brightly, swinging the door open again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect, you know, anyone to be standing out here.”

“I brought this back for Christian,” Jakub says, and looks only a little offended by having a door slammed in his face. He’s holding a bag with a video game system in it.

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to have it back,” Christian’s sister tells him, and Christian leans against his bedroom door, listening. “Thanks.”

“Is he here?” Jakub asks, frowning.

“No, I was just on my way out to meet him for dinner,” she tells him.

Christian tells himself he doesn’t hear disappointment in Jakub’s voice when he says, “oh,” and then, “well, tell him I stopped by. Or I guess I can text him. I thought I told him I was coming by. Anyway. Nice to see you again.”

Christian’s phone vibrates in his pocket and he’s never been more glad that his ringer’s turned off.

Even though he’s out with his sister, he lets boys at the club flirt with him. It’s nice, to be around boys when they think he’s something other than what he really is. And it’s nicer to be around boys who are not hockey players, even though the boys in the bar are probably just as gross as all of the ones that he lives around day in and day out. He doesn’t even mean to let one of them pick him up, but Christian finds himself letting a guy push his knee between his thighs in the dark corridor leading to the bathrooms.

He doesn’t wanna go home with a stranger, but he wants to get off. He texts his sister as he gets into an Uber with this guy, which he knows is a mistake, a fucking mistake.

It’s a mistake for a lot of reasons, least of all that the guy turns out to be terrible in bed. His apartment is a mess, and he’s not anywhere close to getting Christian off when he comes. He rolls off Christian, heavy and sweaty, and Christian knows it’s time to leave.

He tugs his jeans back on and runs his hands over his hair. There’s a CVS on the corner where he buys a packet of makeup wipes and washes his face off in the back of the Uber home. His sister is asleep on the couch when he lets himself in.

“You okay?” she asks sleepily, as he stumbles, kicking off his shoes inside the door.

“I’m fine,” Christian says. “If you count having a guy pump away for two minutes and come without ever getting you off fine.”

“Ew,” she says, and laughs.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he tells her.

He lets the magic slide away from him as he walks through his apartment, tugging his top off as he goes. He tosses it into the laundry, strips out of the rest of his clothes, and goes to shower. After, he goes straight to bed, not bothering to dress.

Between the sheets, he slips a hand down between his legs. He could be back in the club, some guy’s non-descript body grinding against his, the pressure of a thigh pressed between his. It’s what he wanted when he went home with that guy - a hand that’s not his between his legs, a thumb that’s not his stroking across his clit, fingers that aren’t his sliding into the hot and wet of his cunt.

He tugs his pillow over his face and holds it against his mouth to muffle any noises, to make sure that his sister won’t hear. He comes, clenching his thighs closed around his own hand, tugging the pillow away from his face, gasping for air.

It makes it easier to fall asleep once he’s exhausted and can’t feel the tingling as his body changes and settles.

 

“When are you going to snuggle me the way you snuggle Andre?” Jakub asks one night when they’re on the road. Christian is already in bed, stretched out on his back, and almost drops his phone on his face.

“What?” he asks, even as Jakub is snickering at him.

“I’m just saying, you turn the air down so much and then you bundle up and have Andre come in here and cuddle up to you to keep warm and - “

“I don’t have Andre come in here,” Christian interrupts. “He invites himself.”

“Well, I’m cold. And it would be nice if you’d cuddle me once in a while,” Jakub says. He pouts, and Christian is stunned, because first of all, Jakub is a grown man that Christian has seen trying to start fights when he’s pissed off and he’s sticking out his lower lip at Christian right now and second of all, Christian had no idea that Jakub was - what? - fucking jealous of Andre?

Christian sighs dramatically, buying himself time while he pushes his magic down, lets it tingle through him. He doesn’t want Jakub to notice anything when he climbs into the bed. Then he lifts the blankets up. “Come on,” he says.

Probably, Jakub wouldn’t be so cold if he were wearing more than just his underwear, but he’s not, and when he gets out of his own blankets and slides under Christian’s, his hands and feet are freezing where they bump against Christian’s.

“Hi,” he says, and grins. He’s so close that his nose bumps against Christian’s.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Christian says. “And don’t poke me with your dick in the night.”

“No promises,” Jakub says, and even though he’s taller and broader than Christian, he snuggles down until he can tuck his head underneath Christian’s chin, and Christian can feel the warmth of Jakub’s breath hot on his bare chest where the neck of his hoodie is ripped.

 

It becomes routine. They crawl into bed next to each other on the road, they start sitting next to each other on the bus, on the plane. Christian dozes off on Jakub’s shoulder on a flight back home and Jakub doesn’t even give him shit for drooling on his shoulder. Jakub does slip a tentative hand into his and squeeze tightly as they’re walking off the bus one night.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to Christian when Jakub kisses him. It’s a night off, still early, and they’re playing video games on Jakub’s couch. They’ve slumped closer and closer together as the day has worn on, and Christian is waiting for Jakub to make a selection when he looks up and realizes Jakub is watching him.

When Jakub kisses him, it’s soft and sweet and Christian realizes it’s been a long time coming, a series of moments that have built up over the last few years of the two of them playing together and spending time together, and it’s nice, but - 

Christian pulls away from Jakub. “We can’t,” he says.

“But I thought - “ Jakub starts. Christian feels like he can hear Jakub thinking, watches the wrinkle between his eyebrows as he frowns.

“I like you and I want to kiss you but we - I -” Christian takes a deep breath.

“You don’t like me. Like that,” Jakub says.

“No, I do, it’s just - “ Christian says, and sighs, frustrated. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m cursed.”

“Okay,” Jakub says.

“Okay?” Christian asks. He doesn’t think he expected Jakub to say that.

“A lot of people think they’re cursed when it comes to relationships or - “ Jakub starts, but Christian shakes his head and interrupts.

“No, I mean literally,” Christian says. “I mean, it’s not a curse, not really, but a witch… cast a spell and - “ He breaks off, looking at Jakub’s face. “I know it sounds crazy.”

“You could just say that you’re not interested,” Jakub says.

“I am, but. I’m - the magic. I. You might not. Like it,” Christian says.

“I get it,” Jakub says. “You’re not interested. It’s okay.” He’s blushing, and Christian feels like an asshole.

“I should go,” Christian says.

He doesn’t wait for Jakub to reply. He doesn’t think Jakub has anything to say to him, anyway.

 

Things are cold and stilted in their hotel rooms after that. It’s fine, because it means Jakub doesn’t curl up in his bed, and it means that Christian doesn’t have to expend energy he doesn’t have to keep himself the way Jakub expects him to be. They don’t talk about anything that isn’t hockey, and that’s okay.

They’re in Tampa when Christian gives up trying to keep himself one way or the other when he’s not in the locker room or on the ice. He’s tired and sore and just wants to keep going, to pour everything he has left into playing his best, his hardest. Into winning.

He’s finishing getting ready for bed when Jakub comes in. It’s too hot and humid in Tampa for even their hotel room air conditioning to keep up, so Christian’s hoodie is left by the wayside thrown across his suitcase. Standing there in his t-shirt and underwear, who he is is on display. Jakub freezes in the doorway, then shifts slightly, pushing it shut behind him.

“I was trying to tell you,” Christian says. Jakub is staring at his chest, the swell of his breasts beneath the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I don’t understand,” Jakub says. “I’ve seen you naked - you. You don’t have tits.”

“Why are you fucking looking at me naked?” Christian shoots back automatically, even though he knows it happened in the locker room. He’s seen Jakub naked, too.

“Because I’m fucking gay,” Jakub says. They both freeze, staring at each other. “I mean.” But he stops and shrugs.

“My sister and I are identical twins,” Christian says. 

“Boy and girl twins can’t be identical,” Jakub says.

“We were until we were ten,” Christian says. “And there was this witch near. Near the sea, where I grew up. And I went to her and I said I want to play hockey, but only boys are allowed to play professionally. And she said, it’s not going to be easy but if you work I’ll give you this potion and you can do it.”

“You know that doesn’t sound real, right?” Jakub says.

“I know what it sounds like,” Christian says. “My mom was upset. She tried to get the witch to turn me back, but the witch wouldn’t, because it was what I wanted. So she made me… this. So I could make the choice to be who I wanted.”

“And who did you want to be?” Jakub asks, his voice soft.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Christian says. “I just wanted to play hockey. And here I am.”

“But you don’t look like a girl in the locker room,” Jakub says. “And you do now. I mean, sort of. Your face doesn’t. But you have tits.”

“I can. Whatever the - it’s,” Christian stops, and bites his lip, not sure how to explain. “It’s work. I have to concentrate on it. I have to… force it. Force myself to be one way or another. Perform it.”

“Wait, when I came to your apartment before the stadium game, that was you, not your sister who slammed the door in my face, wasn’t it?” Jakub says, and Christian nods. “I knew something was weird.”

“Sometimes we - it’s just fun, sometimes, to,” Christian says, then breaks off, blushing, ducking his head. “It’s fun to dress up and go out. It’s different, a different experience if everyone thinks I’m a girl when I go out. It’s … it’s different. Bad, sometimes. But different, mostly.”

“Why bad?” Jakub asks.

“Because sometimes guys are gross?” Christian says, and shakes his head. They’re still standing in the tight space together just inside the hotel room door, and Christian is tired. He tugs uncomfortably at the bottom of his t-shirt, and watches Jakub’s eyes drift down as it tugs tight over Christian’s tits.

“You like guys, though,” Jakub says. Or maybe he asks it, a note of hope in his voice.

Christian blushes more and walks away from Jakub, going over and sitting down on the bed, crossing his legs. Jakub lingers, then walks over and sits on the edge of the opposite bed, stretching his legs out.

“Yeah,” Christian says.

“Me?” Jakub asks. He looks up to meet Christian’s eyes.

“You just said that you’re gay,” Christian says. “So I don’t think that … I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for.”

“But I already like you,” Jakub says. “I know you. I’ve known you for years.”

“You haven’t, really,” Christian says. “You knew - you know who I … who I let people see.”

“How much different are you?” Jakub asks. “Is your personality different? Or is it just. Your body. Because I like the guy I know.”

“I don’t know how different I am. I don’t know what I’m like when I don’t have to hide,” Christian says.

“I want to find out,” Jakub says.

Christian starts chewing on the edge of his thumbnail, not looking at Jakub after that. He leans back against the headboard and lets his head fall back. The thing is, he doesn’t think that it would be so bad if Jakub pinned him down to the bed. But he also doesn’t think that Jakub is going to be interested in the body he finds underneath Christian’s clothes.

“I don’t think you do,” Christian says after a long moment. “You saw. You saw when I’m presenting as a guy and that’s not who I am all the time, V.”

“Is this who you are all the time? You have tits? That’s not so bad,” Jakub says.

Christian covers his face with both of his hands and tries not to start crying. His eyes sting. “If you like boys that’s not what I am,” Christian tells him. “It’s not that easy.”

“You’re not even giving me a chance to find out,” Jakub says. “I already told you that I like you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Christian says. “Not really.”

“You’re not giving me a chance,” Jakub says, his voice rising in volume. Christian crosses his arms over his chest and folds in against himself, and Jakub sighs. “I like you. I have liked you, or I wouldn’t have been trying so hard to - you know, do this. And you said you like me, so why -”

 

“It’s not that easy,” Christian says.

“How do you know?” Jakub says. “It seems pretty easy to me. How much different can you really be?”

“Well, I’m not a guy, for starters,” Christian says, his voice toneless.

Jakub swears in Czech then, tugging at his hair, exasperated. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I liked you before I knew that. Did your whole personality change? Do you think I’m that fixated on your dick? Because I’ve seen it and it’s okay but like, I’ve seen better so don’t think you’re something special when it comes to that - “

“Stop,” Christian says, and now he’s blushing.

“I’m just saying, don’t think I love you for your dick when I’ve been in a locker room with Ovi,” Jakub continues, grinning.

“I’m going to kill you,” Christian tells him.

“You’re not. Because you like me,” Jakub says, and fuck off, Christian totally does.

“Okay,” Christian says. “Look. You can’t treat me different because of this, because I’m not. It’s just a magic thing and I still have to be a boy to play hockey. I just don’t want to waste the energy when I don’t have to, and I shouldn’t have to when I’m in here.”

“All right,” Jakub says.

“And you can’t tell anyone,” Christian says.

“Will you let me kiss you now?” Jakub asks. Christian tugs his lip between his teeth, chewing it while he looks at Jakub.

“Yeah,” Christian says.

He has to unfold himself, stretch his legs out and let Jakub kneel on the bed next to him. He tips his head up, and Jakub leans down and kisses him. Christian remembers that night on Jakub’s couch, the first time Jakub kissed him. He’d liked it then, and he likes it now.

What he wants - and he knows what he wants, because it’s been a while since he’s had a body heavy on top of his in bed. With Jakub’s mouth on his, Jakub’s hands tangling in his hair, Christian wants Jakub between his thighs, pinning him down. He lets Jakub maneuver him down until they’re lying side by side on the bed.

“Can I see you naked?” Jakub whispers to him after a while. The skin around Christian’s mouth feels scraped raw by Jakub’s facial hair. When he opens his eyes, the skin around Jakub’s mouth is pink.

“I don’t know,” Christian says. “I don’t think - I’m not gonna force anything for you. You’re gonna get… whatever I am.”

“It’s okay,” Jakub says. “I’m not scared.”

“I am,” Christian tells him.

He pushes Jakub up and away from him then, and reaches down and tugs his t-shirt up and off. Christian watches as Jakub’s eyes sweep down his body, lingering on the charm on Christian’s chain where it hangs between his breasts, then down his stomach to the top of his shorts.

“You’re just you,” Jakub says. “But soft.”

Jakub reaches one hand out, stroking a fingertip down the dark line of hair that disappears down Christian’s stomach and into his shorts. Christian shivers involuntarily, and then laughs. “Pretty much,” Christian tells him.

“Are your thighs the same?” Jakub asks him, and rests a hand on Christian’s thigh just above his knee. “Your ass?”

“As far as I know,” Christian says. “I don’t spend a lot of time looking at myself naked.”

“I’d like to spend more,” Jakub says, and then laugh, ducking his face down and burying it against Christian’s bare shoulder. He reaches one hand out and runs a fingertip across Christian’s nipple, swirls it around until it’s hard under Jakub’s finger. “Is this weird?”

“No,” Christian says. “Is it weird for you?”

“Not yet,” Jakub says.

“Take your shirt off,” Christian says.

Jakub sits up and tugs his t-shirt off over his head before settling back down next to Christian. This time, he pulls Christian in close to him, tangling his fingers back into Christian’s hair as he brings their mouths back together. For just kissing, it’s intense, Jakub’s arm wrapping around Christian’s back and pulling him in tighter. Christian spreads his legs easily when Jakub pushes a knee against him.

“It’s weird that you’re not hard,” Jakub whispers to him after a while.

“It’s not - “ Christian says, and pulls back a little, raising a hand up to wipe at his mouth. “I don’t have a dick, Jakub.”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Jakub says. “It’s just. I don’t know. I’m used to. Knowing. When a guy is into me.”

“If I weren’t into you, I wouldn’t be making out with you,” Christian says.

“Can I. Do you want me to - Like.” Jakub wiggles his fingers a little bit. Christian blushes, and ducks his face down so that Jakub can’t see him.

“Are you okay with that?” Christian asks, his voice muffled.

“It’s not like I’ve never been with - like I’ve never touched - you know,” Jakub says. “I wanna get you off.”

“Oh,” Christian says.

Jakub’s hand is on his stomach and sliding down and it’s been so long since someone else’s hands were on him. He can’t help the way his knees fall apart as Jakub’s hand slips into his underwear, slips down between his legs, and Jakub’s fingers slip into slick, wet-hot folds and -

“Wait,” Christian says, because instead of the pleasure he expected to feel at someone finally getting their fingers on his pussy, he just feels panic. “Wait, wait, I can’t.”

Jakub pulls his hand away and the elastic on Christian’s underwear snaps back into place with a soft noise. “Are you sure?” Jakub says. Christian nods.

“I can’t. I’m just.” Christian watches Jakub’s face, how disappointed he looks. “I’m not ready. I want to. I want you to - to touch me. But -”

“It’s okay,” Jakub says, and he swipes his fingers off on Christian’s t-shirt before running his hand through Christian’s hair. “I don’t want to do something you don’t want.”

“I just. I’m not ready. For this. I’m used to. Not. Not actually liking someone,” Christian explains. “Usually I just pick up guys in bars. Or girls.”

“Equal opportunity,” Jakub says. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Christian says, and tips his face until their mouths meet. He can still feel Jakub’s dick pressed hard against him. “Do you want me to - “ he starts to ask, because he thinks he can, at least, handle that.

“It’s okay,” Jakub whispers to him. “You don’t have to. We can just do this.”

They kiss until both of them doze off, mouths rubbed raw by beard stubble and lips swollen.

 

After that, they’re dating. At least, Christian’s pretty sure that they are, given that they go to breakfast and lunch and practice together and he lets Jakub lace their fingers together in front of people and drape his arm around Christian when they’re sat waiting for their turn at Mario Kart. Jakub dozes off with his head rested on Christian’s thigh one night, slumped over on a shitty conference room couch. Christian rests his hand on Jakub’s hair between races.

“You love him more than me,” Andre says to him, quiet. Christian blinks at him sleepily.

“Differently,” Christian says after a moment, drawling the word out in Swedish. Andre stares at him for a moment, his mouth hanging open until Christian finally says, “Close your mouth.”

“You love him,” Andre hisses. Jakub shifts slightly. Christian makes a non-committal noise. No one else in the room speaks Swedish to know what they’re saying. “Christian.”

“Shut up,” Christian says. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s such a big deal,” Andre says. “I’m gonna tell Nicke, and -”

“I will kill you,” Christian tells him. “And I don’t just mean in Fortnite.”

Andre just grins at him until Christian wants to punch him and knock all of his teeth out. Then Christian wastes a couple of seconds trying to remember if any of Andre’s teeth are fake and if fake teeth are easier to knock out. He doesn’t punch, but after the race he reaches out and pinches Andre hard in the meat of his thigh, making Andre yelp.

“Boys,” Beags says, his tone warning. Jakub yawns and stretches against Christian.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” he says, and then doesn’t move, his eyes still closed.

“Uh,” Christian says. “Okay. You kind of. Have to move to do that.”

“Just a minute,” Jakub says, sleepy, and turns his face into Christian’s stomach. Someone snickers. They’re gonna have to pay money out for this, Christian just knows. He doesn’t know what the infraction’s gonna be - PDA, something like that.

“Come on,” Christian says, and hands off his controller to someone else. “Bed’s gonna be more comfortable than my leg.”

“Disagree,” Jakub says, and Christian rolls his eyes even as he blushes.

“Come on,” Christian says, and struggles to stand up with Jakub still laying on him. Jakub blinks up at him sleepily, and Christian reaches down and grabs Jakub by his hands, pulling him up. They stumble together, Christian steadying them.

“That’s at least fifty bucks,” Christian hears someone saying. He thinks it’s Tom. Someone else responds with, “at least,” and he guesses it’s for the best that the whole team knows that this is happening. He’s not sure he’d be able to keep both this and his curse a secret.

He loops his arm around Jakub’s waist and they wobble out into the hall. Christian loops both arms around Jakub’s waist as they wait for the elevator, tucking his head in under Jakub’s chin, letting Jakub duck his face down into Christian’s hair. Christian feels the magic itching under his skin as he starts to let it go, now that they’re away from their teammates.

He likes the way Jakub’s skin smells where his nose is pressed against Jakub’s collarbone. He sighs, soft, and Jakub’s hands are big and warm as he pulls Christian in as close as he can.

In their room, they strip out of their shoes and curl into bed together, kissing each other lazily. Jakub was asleep in the game room, so it’s not intense until suddenly it is, and his hands are pushing up Christian’s shirt and his knee is pushing betwen Christian’s thighs.

“Do you have condoms?” Christian asks him, pulling away, breathing hard. Jakub’s eyes get a bit wide at the question.

“No,” he says. “I didn’t think - well.”

“Let me get my phone,” Christian says, and shoves himself up and out of the bed. He tugs his t-shirt down from where Jakub’s hands have pushed it up, and grabs his phone from where he’s tossed it on the other bed.

He weighs his options on who will give him the least shit if he texts them to ask for condoms. He has two options, he thinks - Andre will chirp him to death, never let him hear the end of it, and his other option is to ask Nicke, who won’t chirp him but who will probably be very disappointed that he didn’t bring his own. Christian wasn’t exactly planning on having sex, and they could go without, but he’s not sure that he can’t get pregnant, in the end, and it’s better not to take the risk.

He texts Nicke.

“What are you doing?” Jakub asks, skating a hand over Christian’s back, warm through the fabric of Christian’s t-shirt.

“Asking Nicke if he has condoms,” Christian says.

“Nicke?” Jakub squeaks.

“Who else am I gonna ask? Nicke’s just gonna be disappointed. Give me that look. You know?” Christian makes a face, a pretty good approximation of the face Nicke makes when he’s disappointed with them. “Who would you ask?”

“Not Nicke,” Jakub says.

“Only because you got adopted by the Russians,” Christian tells him. He lights up, grinning at Jakub. “Text Kuzy and ask.”

Jakub groans and throws himself backward onto the bed. Christian climbs up and sits on his stomach, stripping his shirt off. Jakub reaches up and tweaks one of his nipples. Christian thought that Jakub would be weird about his tits, but it’s kind of nice, and they don’t seem to bother Jakub at all.

“No?” Christian asks. “You don’t want to text Kuzy and ask for condoms?”

“God no,” Jakub says. Christian’s phone vibrates next to them on the bed, and he picks it up.

“You better make this good, because Nicke’s gonna give me shit about this for the rest of my life,” Christian tells Jakub, then leans down and kisses Jakub. “Should I answer the door with my tits out? Give him a real thrill?”

Jakub laughs. “Maybe not tonight,” he says. Christian is sure he’s right, because if he did that he’d definitely have to explain a shit ton of things, and that’s maybe not what he wants to do right now. He gets back off of Jakub and the bed, and grabs a hoodie, tugging it on and zipping it up to conceal his tits as he goes to answer the door when Nicke knocks.

“Why don’t you have your own condoms?” Nicke asks. He narrows his eyes at Christian. “Do we need to have a talk about safe sex?”

“Because I wasn’t planning on it, and _no_ ,” Christian says, and reaches out and snatches the packets from Nicke’s fingers. “Thank you, I love you, thank you, goodbye.”

He slams the door in Nicke’s face and his heart is racing and he’s definitely going to pay for this in the morning.

Christian goes back to Jakub, the condoms clutched in his hand, struggling out of his hoodie. Jakub is stretched out on the bed, watching him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jakub asks him, even as Christian is pushing off his shorts, stripping naked.

“Yes,” Christian says, sure, leaving the condoms on the nightstand as he climbs naked into bed with Jakub.

In spite of the interruption and Christian having to get out of bed, it doesn’t take them long to get back to where they left off, only now Christian is naked and Jakub is slipping off his shirt, trying to squirm out of his pants and kick them off the bed at the same time as he’s trying to slide a hand between Christian’s legs.

Christian’s been waiting so long for Jakub to just touch him that he bucks up into Jakub’s hand, making Jakub laugh even as he’s sliding his fingers into the hot wet of Christian’s body, his thumb brushing ever so gently across Christian’s clit.

He wants to scream, and he can’t. Instead, he says, “please, please - just fuck me,” because it’s been so long, and he and Jakub have spent so much time making out, and not touching each other because Christian wasn’t ready.

“I’ll be gentle,” Jakub tells him, rolling the condom down his dick.

“I’m not a virgin,” Christian says, rolling his eyes, stretched out on his back against the pillows. “I want you to fuck me.”

Jakub does, one hand fisted in his hair, pulling Christian’s head back, his teeth on Christian’s neck. Jakub’s other hand is jammed between them, his fingers working Christian’s clit, fucking him hard until they’re both gasping, until Christian comes with a shout.

Christian wishes Nicke had brought more than two condoms, but it’s for the best, and they fall asleep tangled together and sweaty and it’s been a long time since Christian’s felt this happy.

 

He tells them all on the plane on the way back to DC.

“I’m still, you know. Me,” he says. He’s standing there, still a little drunk from the night before. “I’m just. There’s more going on.”

“We don’t care,” Nicke says. “You can be whatever you want.”

“Good, because doing magic all the time is exhausting,” Christian says.

“I can’t believe that’s what your curse was,” Holtby says.

“You _knew_?” Nicke says, turning on Holtby.

“Well, I knew there was magic on him. He told me he was cursed. He didn’t say what it was,” Holtby says, shrugging.

“Kid, you don’t have to carry all the weight by yourself,” Nicke says, reaching out and ruffling Christian’s hair a lot harder than he necessarily has to. “We’re a team. We’re fucking _family_.”

“We’re drunk,” Andre says helpfully from where he’s sat next to Christian’s seat.

“That too,” Nicke says, then throws himself casually on top of Andre.

Christian plops into his seat, reaching into the tangle of limbs to pinch at Andre, making him yelp. Nicke finally lets Andre go, both of them red-faced and sweaty. The tingling of change magic is fading away from Christian, and he feels normal, hungover, still drunk, safe in his own skin. 

For the first time.

He gets up and wobbles back to where Jakub is sitting, already half asleep in a row with the other Czechs. “Jakub,” Christian says. Michal says something in Czech and Christian doesn’t know what he’s said, but Jakub blushes and Christian can recognize tone, so he gives Michal the finger just to be safe. Michal laughs at him.

“Sit here,” Jakub says. There’s enough room for both of them, rail thin and wrung out from the playoffs.

Christian sits, and they curl up together, pulling a blanket around them. When Jakub kisses him, his mouth tastes like champagne.

He could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> on twitter @ notedgoon


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